July 2, 2013

Exhibitionists Demand Privacy! Film at 11.

As a teenager, I loved
MAD Magazine. I grew to admire the regular contributors: Don Martin and the
Fonebones; Al Jaffee with the Fold-In; the endless rivalry of Spy-Vs.-Spy. (If
you don’t understand, don’t ask. You had to be there.)

The aforementioned cartoonists were always good for a laugh.
But Dave Berg was different; he brought a subtle brand of social commentary
that sometimes went over the heads of us pimply-faced readers. With his regular
feature The Lighter Side, Berg had a
way of pointing out the foibles of our human nature. (What’s more disgusting,
trimming the hairs from your nose, or leaving the house with untrimmed
nose hair? Yeah, it’s like that.)

.

In one particularly poignant installment, a group of
teenagers romped on the beach (Think Gidget).
All of the girls wore bikinis. At the end of the day, they went into the
bathroom to change. When one of the boys wandered in absent-mindedly, they
screamed and covered up.

The joke (in case you missed it) was this: The girls had
just spent several hours in a public place with hundreds of witnesses (mostly
strangers), covered by nothing more than three tiny strategically placed triangles
of polyester; yet they were now embarrassed to be seen in their underwear.

You might ask, whatever came over me – a grown man – to reminisce
over this crude pedestrian humor?

In recent months, it has come to light that the National
Security Agency might be reading your emails and phone records. A young
ex-spook spilled the beans to the world media. Agency officials testify before
Congress, spending hours to say almost nothing. This is an outrage! Unconstitutional invasion of privacy! Impeachment! Treason! Oh, really? Did this really surprise you?

Years ago, when I first learned of Roe v. Wade (the 1973
Supreme Court case that legalized abortion), I went to my local library to read
all about it. Curiously, the court’s decision did not take into account the morality of the act. And it didn’t
attempt a scientific argument that a month-old fetus isn’t really “alive.”
Rather, the case turned on Miss Roe’s constitutional right to “privacy.” Which,
after studying the issue at length, I still don’t understand.

On most mornings, shortly after getting dressed and checking
email, I log in to Facebook. I witness the status updates of my friends: On the bus, going to work. Creepy homeless
guy staring at me. Or Girls’ night
out! Margaritas, here we come! Photos everywhere, of people doing the stupidest
things, proudly displayed for all the world to see.

…that is, until it’s seen by a prospective employer, and
they feel violated. Oh, where’s a lawyer when you need one?

Our kids willingly distribute obscene pictures of themselves
with their cellphones. Anonymous phone sex has been replaced by online video chats, where you show your face and your precise location can be determined from your IP address. We leave an
electronic trail of evidence everywhere we go, knowing full well that (though probably
unlikely) it all can be traced back to us. We willingly give ourselves over to
strangers online, exchanging everything except bodily fluids.

…And yet you get angry because the government now knows that
you ordered a pizza from Domino’s last week? Or because a bank ATM camera
caught you committing a crime?

Yup. You proudly show off your body in a barely-there swimsuit, yet
you’re ashamed to be seen in a less-revealing bra and panties. You’re not
willing to change your behavior, but you fight to the death to protect your
public image. You gladly broadcast your most shameful moments, and...complain when someone sees it.

Something’s wrong with this picture.

The government tells us they need these tools, these intrusions, to keep
us safe from terrorists. Of course that argument would get you nowhere with our
national hero Benjamin Franklin, who famously told us “Those who would give up
essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither.”
While I certainly appreciate his boldness in the face of a brutal king, I’m not
so sure that I would agree today.

If you’ve ever taken a college course in economics, chances are that you
learned a technical term called Opportunity
Cost. That is, every choice that you’ll ever make in life, will naturally preclude
you from doing something else. If you spend your paycheck on chocolate, you won’t
be able to pay the rent. If you marry Betty, you can’t marry Sue. And so on.

Similarly, our national security will always come at a cost. Our law
enforcement agencies continually face the conundrum of balancing national security
with civil liberties. Suppose the FBI could have prevented the horrors of September
11, by listening in on a few phone calls. Would you approve?

Sometimes, it seems, many of our citizens don't truly appreciate the freedoms they enjoy in this freest of all countries. They don't understand that they've got it better than any other civilization -- EVER -- in the history of the planet. As if it was normal. Which it ain't.

I don’t claim to know just where that balance is found, but I appreciate
the attempt. You can't always have it both ways.

Great piece, Steve - I also loved Dave Berg's stuff, and find much of the discussion about how we do National Security in this country to be...well, unbalanced on both sides of the aisle. That doesn't surprise you, I know - but I wonder if it amuses you as often as it does me.

Hear ye, hear ye!

Since the late 19th century, London’s Hyde Park has been known as a symbol of free speech in the Western World. In a section known as Speaker’s Corner, anyone can step onto a wooden crate (the type that was used for transporting soap) and have his say on any subject under the sun – politics, religion, current events, or anything else. Well, I’ve never been to London. But here I am, anyway. Deal with it.

Why I'm here

Welcome to my blog. From a very young age I always wanted to be a writer. I had plenty of things to say, but no forum and no audience. Well, now I have both. Through my books and my weekly posts, maybe I can change the world, one keystroke at a time.

About Me

I was born in 1962 in an old Spanish colony on the coast of California. They called it The Village of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels, in honor of Mary the mother of Jesus. Never heard of it? Oh, silly me. Like most people, you probably know it by its abbreviated name in Spanish:Los Angeles.
I grew up somewhere between the gleaming glass towers of Bunker Hill and the bright lights of Hollywood.